


Peter's Unorthodox Thanksgiving

by HiddenSt0rms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Fever, Flu, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Needs a Hug, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Snark, Snarky Peter, Snarky Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Very slight emeto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21589381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenSt0rms/pseuds/HiddenSt0rms
Summary: Thanksgiving – the time of stuffed turkey, mashed potatoes, and bottomless slices of pumpkin pie.Unless your name is Peter Parker, which in that case, your dinner consists of crackers, ginger ale, and Pepto Bismol.Or: Peter’s in good hands when he comes down with the flu on Thanksgiving.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	Peter's Unorthodox Thanksgiving

**Author's Note:**

> Wishing everyone a happy Thanksgiving!

Aside from Christmas and Halloween, Thanksgiving had to be Peter’s favorite holiday. 

His crazy fast metabolism meant a constant nagging feeling of hunger, one that couldn’t be broadcasted if he wanted to keep the whole superhero thing a secret. Sure, he’s found subtle ways of feeding this high metabolism, mostly by stuffing his face with snacks in between classes and never leaving food on his plate, but there are still times he wished he could go nuts. So naturally, a holiday in which it’s actually socially acceptable to gorge in the richest of foods all day went hand in hand for Peter.

If only his luck wasn’t so darn bad.

The Starks (plus Happy) had invited May and Peter to join them for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a family-oriented holiday, after all. Yet all Peter feels up to doing at the moment is curling up on under a blanket on one of the many guest beds located in Stark Tower, arms wrapped around his stomach with a fine layer of sweat keeping uncomfortable heat beneath his skin. 

Peter lets a soft groan slip. The groggy feeling from when he’d woken up this morning had progressed into a headache and general body aches all over. He thought he’d be able to push through for the sake of watching football with everyone, playing with Morgan, and _food_ (!!!), but one look at the professionally made dishes had Peter sprinting for the nearest bathroom.

Again, what luck.

He feels so bad, more than physically. The Starks never half-assed anything, holidays included. The chefs had probably slaved over the food for hours, only for Peter to give the worst possible insult to a cook. And then there’s the mere fact that the Starks had even invited Peter and May over in the first place, and he’d just gone and ruined it.

Peter’s sulking is interrupted by a soft knock on the door frame. He doesn’t need to look up to know it’s May and sure enough, he feels the mattress dip with weight and a soft hand cupped around his cheek.

“You wanna go on home?” Her voice is low, thankfully so.

Peter slowly shakes his head, not even bothering to open his eyes. 

“You sure? You don’t have to be here if you feel this bad, really.”

“I’m fine back here. Go enjoy the rest of today,” Peter senses May’s uneasiness and peeks an eye open. “I promise.”

“Well, alright. If you insist,” That seems to appease May enough to give a smile. “You want anything to make you less miserable?”

He simply shakes his head and closes his eyes again. May understands and heads out, but not without nudging a ‘just in case’ trash can beside the bed.

* * *

“He’s asleep. You can bring it to him later.” 

The hushed words are still enough to pull Peter from his barely surface level nap. Oh well. His body feels far too heavy and uncomfortable to get any proper rest, anyway. He opens his eyes to see Tony standing in the doorway behind Morgan bouncing in with a tray.

“Look, he’s awake now!” Morgan beams at Peter. “Daddy said this would help!” 

Weak eyes register the crackers, cap of pink medicine, and a glass of something bubbly. “Thanks Morgan.” Peter says in a rough voice, glancing up at Tony for confirmation. 

“The medicine is strong enough for you, don’t worry.”

When Morgan sees that Peter’s not digging in to what she brought him, she looks up at Tony with disappointed eyes. “Does he not like it?”

Tony comes over to ruffle Morgan’s hair. “Peter’s very thankful, I’m sure. He’s just not very hungry right now.”

“Oh.”

“But you know how you can be an even bigger help?” Tony bends down to her level.

Morgan’s eyes light up in such a way that melts even Peter’s heart. “How?”

“I’m sure your mom would love some help with the dishes.” Even though Tony had insisted that they “have people to do that for them,” Pepper had rebutted that she “didn’t want Morgan to grow up _too_ spoiled.” A bit late for that now, isn’t it?

With the five-year-old distracted and out of the room, Tony returns his gaze to Peter. “You made one of the chefs quit.”

“ _Mr. Staaaark_.”

“Geez, ever heard of sarcasm?”

Peter gives Tony such a pitiful look, it would’ve been funny if the situation wasn’t so...pitiful. Tony holds back a laugh in favor of sitting on the bed. “You feeling any better?”

“Not really.”

“What all’s going on, kiddo?”

“Stomach hurts.”

“Really.” Tony stares deadpan. “Thank God MIT prepared me for situations like this. What else?”

Peter hoarsely sighs. “Everything feels really achy. And dizzy. And I have a really bad headache.”

“Sounds like the flu.”

“Thank God your MIT education prepared you for that.” Peter smirks. He can _hear_ Tony roll his eyes.

“I’m only letting that slide because you’re sick, and therefore I am morally bound to go easy on you.”

It’s a cover up and Peter knows it, but he doesn’t have much time to process it, as Tony’s urging him to sit up. “Eat some of the crackers. You don’t want to take strong medicine like that on an empty stomach.”

The teen pales. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Peter feels too weak to truly put up a fight, so he allows himself to be helped up. Even just looking at the crackers twists his stomach terribly, but then again, if he’s going to throw up again, he’d rather have something _to_ throw up than nothing...

2.5 crackers and a few sips of Ginger Ale later, Peter tosses the Pepto Bismol back with a groan. “You couldn’t have modified it to taste better too?”

“I would’ve asked one of the chefs to do that, but since you made him quit…”

“Oh come on!” 

“Kidding again,” Now Tony lets himself smile. “Get some more rest, kid. The meds should kick in soon.”

* * *

It has to be nighttime when Peter wakes up later, judging from the black beneath the window curtain. He feels foggy and out of it, no doubt from the medicine pumping through his system, but at least he no longer feels seconds away from throwing up constantly. 

He reaches over to the nightstand for his phone, but notices a piece of paper sitting on top. Further inspection reveals that it’s a handmade ‘get well soon’ card from Morgan, decorated with a painted hand-print turkey (presumably done under _intense_ supervision of Tony), glitter, and stickers. Peter’s heart swells.

Not such a bad Thanksgiving, after all. 


End file.
